


A New Purpose

by sleepylilgeeky



Series: Life on Baker Street [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confessions, Family, John is Daddy, Love, Love Confessions, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Sherlock is Papa, Stimming, mentioned: Mrs. Hudson and Molly Hooper, they finally recognize their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 13:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylilgeeky/pseuds/sleepylilgeeky
Summary: Rosie calls Sherlock 'Papa' for the first time, which leads to Sherlock telling John, scared he's going to become angry, which only leads to confessions that were long overdue to find out.





	A New Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> This took me about three days to write, and rewrite a few times, but I am happy with the turnout so... yay! This idea popped up in my head after my nephew has started realizing names to people around him, even names that are on TV shows, and I thought it would be super sweet to see how Sherlock would react to Rosie calling him Papa since he cares for her as much as John does.

Sherlock closed the door to 221C behind him as he had just wrapped up studying a severed finger that was found in a pond in Bristol last week. He wiped his hands off on his pants and made his way up the staircase to his regular flat.

There was a nice breeze blowing throughout the apartment as he saw the windows were propped open, letting in the air.

It seemed that John was in the shower since Sherlock had heard the water running from down the hall. He walked through the door way into the sitting room and saw Rosie’s play pin sat in the middle of the floor with her in it. She was watching the cartoon that was on the telly. As much as Sherlock hated John for letting her small brain absorb the cartoons, he knew it was, sometimes, a pretty decent alternative to a sitter.

Rosie turned her head back as she had heard the footsteps and her eyes widened as she stood up, grinning as wide as she could, showing off her almost-full set of milk white teeth. She started reaching out her arms for Sherlock, trying to get him to get her out of the pin. She started opening and closing her hands, trying to signal Sherlock to her.

Sherlock couldn’t help but give a small smile at the little girl whose unruly curls were swaying from her pigtails with every movement she made. Rosie mumbled her words which came to nothing clearly coherent but Sherlock still listened as he walked to the kitchen; he was going to wash his hands once more before handling the small Watson.

Rosie stopped bouncing and her smile dropped as she burrowed her eyebrows together as she watched Sherlock disappear. She gripped tightly onto the pin, her bottom lip protruding and she let out a sad huff before reaching her arms over the pin and shouting, “Papa!”

Sherlock was just now running his hands under the warm stream of water as he heard the new word that Rosie had just belted. He felt his mouth run dry as his heart began to beat faster. He wiped his hands off and felt everything become tight.

Rosie had just called him Papa..

Never had she said that word before.

“Papa…” Rosie said once more, this time a lot sadder before she let go of the pin, falling back on her bum as she threw her head back and started crying.

One thing that all of Baker Street knew by now is that Rosie Watson can CRY when she’s upset. It’s the most heart breaking sound anyone could ever hear. However, the shrill cries are quite piercing and it causes Sherlock to freeze up more.

He rubbed his middle finger pad against his thumb pad to calm a bit before walking back to the room and consoling the crying child for both his and her benefits.

Sherlock reached inside the pin and picked Rosie up, her body was still thrown backwards as she continued to cry and had shifted all her weight. He held her close to his chest and began to rub and pat her back in a repetitive pattern as he had done and seen John do when she cried.

Her face was red and wet from the lumpy tears she cried now that she was in the age where when she was upset, she’d cry and it actually shows that she’s sad.

Rosie cried into Sherlock’s collar, coughing as she had stressed her crying but continued, her cries becoming softer. “I’m here, little Bee.” He spoke softly, “Sherlock has been working and didn’t want to get anything on you.”

Sherlock still despises speaking in third but he knows how Rosie’s mind is as a child and wants to help her grasp on to who is around her and what they’re called. Sometimes, every now and then, he’ll speak in baby talk.

John into the sitting room, his striped robe wrapped around him with his towel thrown over his shoulder. He seemed to have a panicked look on his face but it had eased once he saw Sherlock had Rosie, “Oh thank god, I thought she had hurt herself while I showered.”

Rosie’s cries were softened down to small sniffles and she laid her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, her thumb held in between her teeth.

“What happened?” John asked.

“Rosamund had a small break down when I left the room.” Sherlock responded, still rubbing Rosie’s back. “I just finished an experiment and didn’t… want to get any chemicals on her by chance so I, uh, washed my hands and she completely… lost it.”

“Daddy.” Rosie spoke, words a little muffled by her thumb. She reached out to him and Sherlock handed her over and John took Rosie into his arms.

Sherlock rubbed his hands together as he took a deep breath, the moment before still playing in his mind.

John gave a small nod in response to what Sherlock had said, looking at the distress on his two year olds face and then the blank staring Sherlock was doing. He drew his lips back as questions arose in his mind but he decided not to ask. Instead, he rubbed Rosie’s back.

“Let’s go get that nasty nappy changed Ro’,” John said to Rosie as he placed a kiss upon her temple before turning around and heading upstairs to their shared room. “Unless you want ole’ Sherlock to do the nasty job.” He scrunched his nose before tickling Rosie’s belly, getting a smile out of her.

Rosie looked back at Sherlock and then laid her head back on John’s shoulder before pointing at the staircase, “Up Daddy.”

Sherlock sighed deeply as he ran both hands through his hair, ruffling his curls before going to his chair and sitting, listening to John talking to Rosie through the baby monitor that was sat on the coffee table. He listened to John making the weird noises to get Rosie to laugh.

Rosie’s giggle was so sweet. Her voice so soft.

Her saying Papa was etched into Sherlock’s mind and wasn’t going to leave.

_It had to be an accident._

There’s no way Rosie actually called him Papa and meant it.

_It had to come from the telly shows John put on for her._

It stumped the detective on why Rosie was putting him in that sort of stand point of a figure. She is very impressionable at her age so Sherlock played different scenarios that would lead to Rosie slipping and calling him Papa.

It worried him that John might get angry since his daughter is referring to another man as a father figure and not just him.

Sherlock explored through his mind palace, looking through to try and remember any sort of time that could just possibly give the young girl the idea to call him that.

It scared him.

He played through the thought of it might being a mistake but remembers that Rosie, for a few months now, has been calling people she knows by names, in her baby vernacular. John is specifically Daddy. Mrs. Hudson is Nan. Molly is ‘Moll’ but no pronunciation of the l’s.

Rosie hasn’t ever say Sherlock, at most, just the first consonants, but she stopped; Sherlock thinking that his name just put too much work for Rosie and he understood.

Sherlock tapped his fingers against the armrests and let his head fall back before his mind sent him back to the events of a few nights previous.

They were eating Chinese takeaway from their favorite spot. Rosie was squishing the noodles between her hands but offering the noodles to Sherlock, who accepted them, even though John told him that it was gross but Sherlock said he was just making her happy. They finished eating and drew Rosie a bath.

Rosie stood up in the tub, taking the cup that was sitting in the water and dumping it on Sherlock. Which caused John to laugh too hard and Sherlock grabbed the cup and dipped it in the water and poured it on John. John was taken back and shoved against Sherlock as he lathered some strawberry baby shampoo in his hand, and Sherlock shoved him back, causing him to lose the balance he had and he grabbed a hold of Sherlock, bringing him down on top of him. Their faces less than three inches apart.

Sherlock’s heart beat faster remembering the rush of anxiety that went through him as he was locked eyes with John Watson.

He had moved and apologized, getting up to retrieve a towel as John washed Rosie’s hair.

Later that night, they sat on the couch watching one of the James Bond movies. Rosie was in Sherlock’s arms as he loved holding her as she slept, the weight of her body giving a sense of comfort. As the movie was nearing the end, Sherlock had slumped over a bit. The weight of his body relaxing onto John. His head was resting on John’s chest as soft snores escaped. John’s arm found its way over Sherlock’s shoulder as sleep took him as well.

The three of them asleep in each other’s arms.

Rosie had woken them up with squealing as she grabbed both their faces, saying “Daddy” over and over until either one of them got up. Mrs. Hudson had brought them up tea not short before so there was no way she hadn’t seen them.

The way she’d been acting since then was finally making sense to the ‘genius’ detective.

Sherlock didn’t realize that John had come back downstairs. He had gotten dressed while he was upstairs into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve. He had also closed the windows but Sherlock was deep in his mind to realize.

“What’s gotten you?” John asked

Sherlock still hadn’t moved but John’s voice broke him from his stare, “Oh, um, sorry.” He apologized, “I’m just…” He rubbed the pads together as he felt John’s stare.

“Mm…”

“Tea?” Sherlock asked.

John sat down in his chair, grabbing the newspaper, “Sounds great.”

Sherlock went and put the kettle on. That small moment still playing. He’s not even sure why he’s still thinking of it since Rosie probably doesn’t remember saying it. His mind going wild, causing him to swat invisible words floating around his head away.

He grabbed two cups and the sugars, heading back towards the room and placed John’s on the table beside him and John gave him his thanks which Sherlock just nodded and went to his laptop at the desk.

“How’d the examining of the finger go?” John asked.

“Oh,” Sherlock responded, “Not as good as I thought. It belonged to a murder victim from thirty years ago, not as exciting as I thought it would be. Murder was solved back then, not all of his body parts had been found, said the files, just seemed this little bit of evidence just popped up despite being insufficient.”

“Okay then.” John laughed as he flipped the page.

The two men sat quietly; the only noises were from the clacks of Sherlock’s keyboard and the chatter down on Baker Street. Sherlock was researching the question that has floated in his mind for the past twenty minutes.

“New cases?”

“No, just… googling.” Sherlock drew out.

John laughed, “Googling? What are you researching?”

“The development of the brain of a toddler.”

John raised an eyebrow and put his paper down, “May I even ask why?”

Sherlock stared blankly at John, as if formulating a question, squinting his eyes a bit as his mouth gaped open, but he closed it and turned back to the computer. “So, what’s the big news about the minister this time? New love affair?”

“Sherlock.”

“My dear brother…”

“Sherlock.”

“It’s such a lovely day today,” Sherlock stalls as he gets up and goes to the window, overlooking the street. “I’m sure Rosie would love a trip to Re-,”

“Cut it.” John interrupted, “What’s going on. Did something happen with Rosie?”

“Nothing that could be considered bad or harmful, just unusual… you know how kids are… their brains are, uh, developing.” Sherlock drew, spacing his words out as he continued to look out the window, not wanting to meet John’s eyes.

“Sherlock.”

John was stern as Sherlock finally turned his head to face John.

Sherlock inhaled slowly, “Rosie called me Papa.”

John’s face softened up and broke into a smile, “Oh Sherlock…” He said as he began to laugh.

Confusion wrote Sherlock’s face as he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused on why John was laughing at this subject. “What? Why are you laughing?”

John caught himself and gave a small chuckle before trying to stop, a smile still etched on his face, “You, of all people… A man who can tell a person’s whole life story by the scar on their hand, is stumped because you were called Papa?”

“I-,” Sherlock started before he stopped again, “You’re not angry that your daughter called another man a figure like that?”

“Christ Sherlock, she’s only two. She thinks of you as a father because you care for her. You have been for over a bloody year now. You feed her, and change her, and bathe her. You read her bed time stories with me and are always there for anything that’s to happen with her. She loves you Sherlock.” John said with a smile. “I’m not sure where she got Papa from, maybe her telly shows, but she knows what a father is, but don’t freak out. You are just as much as her father with the way you mean to her and she means to you.”

“John-,”

“She’s very impressionable at this age.”

“Do you think she remembers the other night…”

“Probably, she was telling me about it last night at bed time after you left. Her meltdown was because she wanted us to be together.” John responded. He waved his hand in between him and Sherlock. “She wanted us to be together with her.”

“She does?”

John smiled, “She does.”

John had gotten a bit closer to Sherlock now, grabbing a hold of Sherlock’s hand. His thumb rubbing against the top of Sherlock’s hand. “It honestly thrills me that Rosie sees you and is as comfortable with you to relate you to her father.”

“It does?”

“Stop questioning everything, you cock.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile with that, “Rosie thinks of me as her father…”

“That little girl lost her mother way to young, but she’ll know that Mary loved her, but she knows how much we love her, and it’s okay for her not to have that woman-figure in her life because she has Molly and Mrs. Hudson for that.” John said, still caressing Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock watched. “and you love that little girl Sherlock, and she adores you.”

“I really do.”

“I do too.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up and met John’s face, “John-,”

“Yes Sherlock,” John said, softly, “Rosie loves you and I love you. Truly.”

Sherlock felt his heart race as those words processed in his head. In awe of what was actually being said to him. John was okay with Rosie calling him Papa. Rosie wants them. John just said that he loved him.

“It’s fine if you don’t,” John added, “But, that’s out there. I have for a while. I concealed it for years. I loved you. You left. I found Mary and I love her, always will. You come back. She gives me Rosie and I love Rosie. Mary’s gone and I still love her, but I’ve moved on. That night, a year ago, whenever I broke down after talking to her. She- She told me to get on with it.” He felt his chest become tight, “You bring me and Rosie back and care for us like no other would. 221B is home. You love Rosie. I love you for loving Rosie, God knows she’s loved, but I love you.”

Sherlock felt tears start to prick in his eyes but tried holding them back as much as possible. He traced the pads of his fingers together while John caressed the other hand. “John, I-,” He took a deep breath and let a tear roll down his cheek, “I’m not the most caring man in the world but I do have emotions, only you and my brother have every truly been experienced to the way I am and know me. I’m not normal, and won’t ever be, but you’ve accepted it. Seven years I have had this attraction to you, but you’d constantly shoot down any sort of suggestion of who you may be, as I had done for years and continued.”

“I’m not gay Sherlock,” John stated, “I’m bisexual. I love Mary, but she’s gone. I’ve loved you the longest, just, didn’t agree with myself due to my past. But Christ, I can’t hold it in any longer.”

“I understand.”

“Sherlock, if you’d have me, I want us to be a family. You, me, and Rosie.”

“You want me to be her-,”

“Papa,” John finished, “Yes, of course.”

Sherlock let more tears slide down his cheeks and the overwhelming feeling took over. John loved him. Well, John loves him. He wants them to become a family. John saying the three words were forever a place in Sherlock’s mind palace, along with Rosie’s first saying of Papa as she called for him.

John wiped the tears from Sherlock’s face away with his thumb and cupped underneath his chin, “Will you have me?”

Sherlock nodded, “I will.”

John pulled Sherlock’s chin down a little as he stepped closer, “May I?” Sherlock nodded.

Their lips sealed together and fit perfectly, almost as if it were like a puzzle piece. Soft lips that had waited too long to finally meet but finally got a chance. It was _soft_. It was _warm_. It was _blissful_. Everything that the two men needed.

John was the first one to pull away and smiled up at Sherlock. Sherlock still had tears in his eyes, but happy tears. “I love you Sherlock Holmes.”

“I love you…,” Sherlock slipped the words he used to hold in his head for so long, “John Watson.”

The doctor and detective sat down on the couch together; lips immediately on one another’s. Releasing the feelings both men had in them for quite some time. John’s hand was on the back of Sherlock’s neck, running his fingers through the brown curls. Sherlock’s hands were cupping John’s face and around his back.

They didn’t know how long time had went by until they heard the small voice break through the baby monitor.

“We just made out like bloody teenagers.” John panted, still catching his breath as he and Sherlock made eye contact and started laughing. “My God…”

 _“Daddy…”_ Rosie’s voice drew out through the monitor.

John got up off the couch and started to head to the stairs. He stopped as he got to the door way and turned back to Sherlock, “Come up with me.”

“You want me too?”

John nodded, “Yes.” He held his hand out and Sherlock stood up, walking slowly to John and taking his hand, intertwining their fingers together. Sherlock smiled and gave John’s hand a squeeze as they both walked up the stairs.

They entered the bedroom and saw Rosie standing up in her cot, her pigtails fallen loose and her curls everywhere. Rosie grinned big as she saw John enter and even bigger when Sherlock followed in behind.

“Daddy!” Rosie squealed, gleefully.

John picked Rosie up and kissed her temple, “Hello, my sweet girl.” He shifted her over to his hip, “Did you sleep well?” Rosie nodded and rubbed her eyes before shaking her head side to side really fast and giggling.

John sat down on his bed, sitting Rosie beside him, then signaled for Sherlock to sit down too. Sherlock took a spot next to Rosie, “Can Daddy talk to you Sweat Pea?” John asked Rosie, making sure they had eye contact. He was talking calmly to get through to her small growing brain. Rosie rolled her eyes up for a minute before saying yes.

“Good girl Rosie.” John said, “Daddy wants to tell you something REALLY important.” He animated as Rosie looked at him and then to Sherlock, but turned her interest away. “Rosamund.” Rosie looked back, “Sherlock told me you called him Papa today… Can I ask where you learned that word?”

Rosie mumbled a bit, “ ‘ta telly show got Papa.”

“The telly show?”

Rosie nodded.

“Well Rosie, Sherlock and I had a long discussion.” He looked up at Sherlock and smiled, “and Sherlock wanted to tell you something.”

Sherlock opened his mouth a bit before closing, trying to formulate his words, “I love your Daddy, Rosie, and I… I am honored for you to recognize me as a parental figure. I know my words are complex and your mind is growing so you’re not understanding me, but, I would be delighted for you to call me Papa.”

“Papa.” Rosie’s eyes brightened. She looked at John and then back to Sherlock, “Papa!”

Sherlock smiled as he heard the excitement in Rosie’s little voice. “We’re going to be a family.” John said as he kissed Rosie’s hair. “We already kind of were one but this time… oh, this time this is going to be new.”

Rosie stood up on the bed, toppling over a bit but Sherlock caught her as she turned and smiled, squeezing his face in her little hands. She squeeze his head in between her arms as she attempted to give her ‘hugs’ that Molly taught her. “Papa.”

Tears started to form again as Rosie repeated the words over and over. Her excitement with the word found its way in his mind palace to stay. John had scooted closer and Rosie fell, caught in between them. Sherlock took his fingers and started tickling her belly as John got her feet.

The happy giggles and squeals from Rosie caused both Sherlock and John to laugh as they tickled Rosie. She squealed their names in between as her tummy was attacked with tickles. Sherlock could keep this sound in his head forever. He could keep this feeling forever.

It was almost as if something inside him had changed.

Never did Sherlock think he’d be a father; he didn’t even think he could be anyone’s partner.

Now here he is with his perfectly little family.

The Detective, The Doctor, and The Bee on 221B Baker Street as a family.

 _Life might actually have a purpose,_ Sherlock thought.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are very much welcome! They help me improve my writing skills!
> 
> (Also, if you have any headcanons that you'd like to see written, just comment and I will definitely write it. Thanks!!!)


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